The Real Housewives Of Westchester
by Genevive Cotillard
Summary: Humungous mansions in gated communities? Check. Expensive clothes and platinum credit cards? Check. Catty fights, dirty little secrets and little white lies? Check. —GrownUp!PC
1. Chapter 1

disclaimer: nothing belongs to me!  
note: links on my profile for clothes and that lot!

* * *

**Early Morning Woes**

* * *

"Mom." A small voiced whispered in her ear.

Claire Lyons-Fisher groaned and burrowed deeper into the covers. "Mommy?" If she didn't move, he'd go away. "Mama," he sang. The kid was too persistent. "Madre." He knew Spanish now? "Mum? Mummy? Mumsy?" Claire put a pillow over her head and attempted to block out the noise. The little monster straddled her. "MOTHER!"

"Okay, _fine. _I'm up." She muttered, throwing off her covers and glowering at her son who smiled angelically back at her. Just like his _father_. "What?"

"Just wanted to see if you were up yet." Alex Fisher replied, smiling triumphantly at her.

Claire grabbed him around the waist and pinned him to the bed before tickling him mercilessly. His desperate pleading fell on deaf ears. Perhaps he'd finally learn to _not _interrupt the little sleep she was currently getting, what with their cross country move —she still had _so _many boxes to unpack— and Cam constantly being away at his fancy schmancy new job.

The doorbell rang, causing her to freeze and cover Alex's mouth with her hand. She brought her finger to her lips, letting him know to stay quiet. When he nodded, Claire tiptoed over to the window. There were no cars out front, so that only meant one thing.

Neighbors.

She'd had only met a few people in the neighborhood so far, none of which she cared to spend more time with than necessary. Especially, now since she could see Alicia Hotz dark hair gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Josh Hotz and his wife lived down the street with their perfect little daughter Nadia. Alicia was the neighborhood gossip queen. Claire just knew if she opened that door she would be trapped for hours listening to exaggerated tales about everyone else's business.

She'd had just woke up. She couldn't handle that.

Claire sighed and turned back to her son, who was starting back at her with wide eyes. "Let's get breakfast started, shall we? And _quietly, _please! I do _not_ want to wake up your baby sister."

_Or_ let Alicia know that she was home.

* * *

Cam Fisher put his empty mug down on the table with a loud clatter, definitely a sign that he'd had enough. He looked over at his friend, Chris Plovert and held up his hand, a signal not to engage in another round. Early morning and he was already trying to drink away his sorrows.

In _coffee. _

God, he was already starting to become a tight, buttoned corporate suit who only drank over-priced drinks from Starbucks.

"I swear, if it wasn't for porn, a good brew, and Olivia when she's not on the rag, life wouldn't be worth living," Plovert said as he slumped down in his chair. His Armani suit was wrinkled from what was probably another night spent at his office.

Cam grimaced and pushed his chair back. "Heard from the Harrington's yet?"

"Nope." Plovert snorted, clanging his mug down on the stainless lunch table. Their lunchroom was probably worth more than his _entire _house combined, back in Florida anyways. Their new house in Westchester was worth more than _quadruple_ that. "But we're pretty close to sealing it. Can you imagine getting a deal with the Harrington's? A couple of big shots like that could pay my entire retirement fund and I'd be out of this shit hole."

"I think they actually live on my street." Cam replied, remembering driving up to the immense gates of Westchester's most exclusive gated community and the beefy guard grilling them for almost twenty minutes just because his son wore a Derrick Harrington _jersey._ "I haven't seen them, though."

"According to all the tabloids Liv has lying around, they're on vacation which gives us just enough time for _you _to get your shit together and get to know them, Fisher." His friend replied, his chair scraping against the shiny marble floor as he got up. "Kiss ass. Compliment his lady. Hell, throw them a welcome back party. Whatever it takes, I want my retirement fund."_  
_

Cam rolled his eyes as Plovert stretched and let out a loud belch. "Thanks for the heads up, Plovert."

"No problem, man."

* * *

"Regan! My God, what have you done with yourself?!" Dylan Marvil exclaimed, as her makeup artist attempted to jab a mascara wand in her right eye. She waved the woman away, glaring at her brunette daughter. "Have you been playing in a gutter?"

"Most likely, mother. She smells like it!" Talia Marvil replied waspishly, a pink bedazzled iPhone clutched in her small hands. Unlike her twin sister, _her _red hair was perfectly smooth and her clothes clean and nicely pressed.

"I do not!" Regan Marvil shot back, crossing her arms. "I saw a cute little crow, Mom! I was gonna catch it but it flew over the fence. I had to get it but slipped—"

"And fell into a garden?" Dylan finished, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at her daughter. "You better hope Alicia didn't notice you ruined her precious roses."

"Nope." Regan proudly replied. "I run around to the front yard and came right to you!"

"And the crow?" Talia asked, looking slightly curious.

"It flew away."

Dylan groaned, resisting the urge to pull out her hair. "Regan. Bath. _Now._"

"Mooooooom! I took one this_ morning,_ just like you asked!" Her daughter protested, stamping her foot. Talia merely smiled and turned back to her phone. A Hello Kitty charm glimmered brightly at her and Dylan cursed her ex-husband for thinking expensive lavish gifts made up for the fact that _she _was the one only disciplinarian in their daughters lives.

And considering what a handful Regan was, Dylan was failing miserably.

"Well, if you didn't look like you just jumped into a mud pit, maybe you wouldn't have to take another one." She smoothly replied, gesturing for her makeup to return. "I have a show in exactly one hour and you better be sparkling clean by then. Alright?"

"_Fine_ but I won't be happy about it!"

* * *

The charms on Massie Block's bracelet clinked against one another as she haphazardly threw dozenz of Versace bikini's into a Louis Vuitton suitcase, her brow furrowed in anger. If it weren't for the fact that it was a priceless gold bracelet, she would thrown it right out the window of their five-star resort.

It was a gift from her _stupid _husband.

"Come on, Mass. It's too early to pack." Derrick mumbled from their bed, pulling the covers his head. "We still have a couple hours."

"We would have two more days if it wasn't for your _mother._" Massie snapped, zipping the suitcase. "You just _had _to have her look after the house because it would have been the _perfect _job for a sane person like her, all stints in rehab aside."

"So? She raised me and I turned out perfectly fine." Her husband replied in protest, his head popping up for a few moments to give her a look. "And Cecelia loves her."

"Don't bring her into this! Just because our _seven year old _hasn't figured out her grandmother's a nutcase, doesn't make her any less crazy." She said, glaring at her husband. "Seven police cars showed up, Derrick! And _two _firetrucks. Alicia said they stayed for almost two hours trying to convince your mother she hadn't burnt our entire house down!"

"Well, she hasn't." Derrick pointed out, pushing his covers back and sitting up to look at her, blinking as the sunlight hit his eyes.

"No, you're right." Massie agreed. "Just everything _inside_ it. We have no _home_, Derrick!"

"We'll get a hotel—"

"And live there for the rest of our lives?"

"_And _I'll give Cam Fisher a call. The dude's got every listing in Westchester. Chill, Mass. I've got everything figured out." Derrick said, attempting to reassure her as he got out of bed, trying to find his shirt. "You don't wanna worry Cecelia, do you?"

Massie sighed, sitting down on their bed. "You're explaining this to her."

"Why _me?" _He objected, pulling a faded Nike shirt over his head. "Why do I always have to be the bad guy?"

"Because, somehow, it's always your fault?"

* * *

**REVIEW **if you want this to continue!

And don't worry, Kristen will come along in the next chapter, along with Alicia!


	2. Chapter 2

disclaimer: nothing belongs to me!  
note: links on my profile for clothes and that lot!

* * *

**Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?  
**

* * *

It was a beautiful August day, a perfect day for to be out shopping. Outside, the sunlight fell in giant splotches over the Harrington estate, guarded by the stately oak trees. Forest green lawns and white flowers contrasted with the pale blue hue of the sky.

Inside was a different story.

Massie shook her head at her husband as he made his way back into their kitchen.

Well, whatever was left of it.

"Having a _job_ will teach her responsibility. She'll have something to look after every morning and afternoon. She'll have better sense than to get drunk while we're gone. Not to mention set our house on fire. I promise, Mass, you have _nothing_ to worry about." Massie gestured around them, half-closing her amber eyes in disgust.

She was never going to let him live this down.

He'd talked big when he'd brought his mother in while they were gone. Derrick had rationalized that it would be a good learning experience for her. Of course that lasted all of one week. Then it became too much of a chore for her. And now he'd be taking shit for it the rest of his life.

Derrick scratched the back of his neck and shuffled his feet to the table. "How many times do I have to repeat myself? _I got it under control. _And I thought we weren't going to discuss this in front of _her_?"

His little copper-haired beauty stood before him, her hand tightly wound in Massie's. She looked over at him with those big, brown doe eyes and pursed her lips.

"I know our house was on fire, Daddy." Her indignant tone made him think immediately of the mother she so closely resembled. "Grandma told me. She said she's sorry."

"Of course, she's sorry _now._" Massie said flatly.

"Either way, there's nothing to worry about. Our new neighbors are going to help us out!" Derrick smiled, putting on his most charming smile for their easily swayed daughter. Massie couldn't help but roll her eyes. "And I think they have a kid your age, Cece."

"Really?" Cecelia's eyes widened as immediately forgot the rubble around them. "Are we going to live with them?"

"No." Massie immediately interjected. She'd heard about these _Fisher's _from Alicia and from what she'd gathered, they were not the type she wanted associating with her daughter. "They'll be fixing our house, sweetheart. And we'll be staying in a hotel."

"Right. Of course."

* * *

"I didn't think you'd come," Alicia said when she saw Kristen Solomon walking towards them in the crowded restaurant. Why every tourist and wannabe celebrity in New York wanted to lunch at Nobu was beyond her. They obviously didn't come here for the food as a Lindsay Lohan lookalike hiding behind a pair of Chanel glasses sat down a couple of tables away from them.

As if anyone would want to take a picture of her.

"I almost didn't," Kristen said as she looked around before she took a seat. "Dempsey left me with the kids and they decided to work off the jet lag by running around like little _devils_."

"Psh, at least they don't constantly looking like they live on the streets." Dylan grinned.

"I'd like to see _you_ after six hours with three kids under the age of eight." Kristen challenged, waving a waiter over. "I'll have the usual."

"So when's Massie getting here?" Dylan Marvil asked, popping a piece of bread into her mouth. Alicia rolled her eyes at her and grabbed the crystal bowl in the glass table in front of them. "Hey! I was eating that."

"Exactly. They're for _show._" Alicia snapped, clutching the bowl in her hands.

"Why put real food out and say it's for display?" Dylan snapped, her eyes glued to the bowl in Alicia's hands. "I've had a rough day, Leesh. Brad Pitt skipped out on his interview because of some stupid family emergency and I had to resort to increasing the segment with Rachel Ray! I _need _food!"

"I feel for you." Kristen snorted, taking a delicate sip of water. "I _also _heard a certain girlie's been getting into Alicia's rose bushes."

_"You told her?!" _Dylan whipped around to glare at Alicia, who was busy putting the crystal bowl an arm length's away from Dylan. "I thought you didn't notice . . . ."

"Well, I did." Alicia snapped, giving the redhead a derisive look. "And to answer your question, their plane arrives at 3 sharp."

"_Your rose bushes—_"

"_No. _Massie and Derrick!"

"Have you seen their house yet?" Kristen exclaimed, leaning forward with a sympathetic look on her face. "Such a tragedy! It was the best one in the entire neighborhood and now it's gone in flames."

"I know! I was hoping to buy it when they moved out to Manhattan." Dylan whined, whipping her red hair back. "After Cecelia grew up and all, you know."

"_Please_, Dylan." Alicia scoffed, examining her nails with boredom. "As if _theirs_ is the best you can get in Westchester. Besides, I heard Cam Fisher's already got the monopoly on fixing that place. If it's even possible."

"The new guy?" Kristen tilted her head, sending a rush of golden hair over her shoulders. "I heard his wife used to be a freelance reporter in _Florida. _I mean, for a guy that graduated from Harvard Business School, he sure downgraded."

"His kid's cute, though. I think Talia likes him." Dylan piped up, grinning. "The baby's pretty cute too. Very Suri Cruise-like."

"They must get it from their father." Alicia adjusted her Gucci sunglasses so they rested perfectly just above her hairline. Smiling, she gave her friends a knowing look. "I'd give them a couple months before he realizes he's too good for her."

* * *

_Don't mess it up._

Four words she had more or less based her entire life on and considering the uber-important guests they were having tonight, she'd better live up to it.

Claire started down the stairs to their elaborate dining room and tripped on the first step, landing painfully on her right knee, groaning as lifted herself back up. No matter how good these Christian Loubotin's looked on the rack, they were almost too painful to be worth it.

She made her way down the stairs, careful to put one foot firmly on each step, so she didn't fall again. Claire made her way past their living room and took one deep breath before walking in to find two men sitting at the long rectangular table. They were both dressed in expensive-looking suits, and one was Cam of course but it wasn't her husband that took her breath away.

The other man had a wild mess of dark blonde hair on his head. There were strands of hair sticking up in all different directions that somehow looked purposeful and almost _appealing_. He couldn't have been over thirty, probably wasn't much older than herself, actually.

He looked even better in person than he did then on the numerous tabloid magazines, campaigns or tv.

His eyes were so _dark —_a rich hue of brown_—_, she couldn't help but take notice of them even from across the room. Then there was the jaw porn. Oh God, did the man have a jawline that made her want to touch it.

Preferably with her tongue—

Wait.

No.

What was she thinking?

The two men were engaged in a serious conversation and paid no attention to her openly gawking at them. Claire stood patiently to the side, waiting for them to acknowledge her, so she could welcome their new guest and let them know dinner was ready. She couldn't help but smooth a hand nervously over her Alice + Olivia strapless dress, suddenly feeling very self conscious.

"I swear Fisher, if I had a fucking nickel for every time someone has told me they're sorry today," the blonde man ranted. Claire couldn't help but think he should be a little bit more careful about talking like that, especially since there was a certain seven year old hiding somewhere around here who had a knack for always picking up the wrong things and promptly repeating them.

For everyone to hear.

"I know, Derrick. I know."

"It's ridiculous," he grumbled, running his hand through that mess of hair on his head. He turned his head just enough to catch sight of her, his eyebrows rising slightly. Claire's heart jumped. "Hello . . . . ?"

_Oh shit. _

He was talking to her. Claire stepped further into the room and tried to smile even though she was suddenly _so_ nervous, she could literally feel the sweat beads forming on her forehead.

"Claire. You must be Derrick." She beamed, putting on her brightest smile, sneaking a look at Cam to see if she was doing okay. He nodded in encouragement. "Just thought I should let you two know that dinner is almost ready!"

She almost winced at how perky her voice sounded.

"Thanks, Claire—" Before Cam could finish, a childish voice interrupted.

"Mooooooom, Sara smells." Alex interjected, walking into their dining room wearing a bright red cape and matching mask. "Really bad."

And just like that, the spell was ruined.

"Busy saving the world?" Derrick asked, nodding to his getup, completely unfazed. Alex said nothing and gave no indication of greeting. He simply blinked and stared. Claire could see it dawn on his face.

Uh oh.

Cam sent her a desperate look.

"Y-y-yeah. I mean, yeah!" Her son nodded minutely, clearly unsure of what to do with himself in front of his _hero._

"Why don't we get Sara? Come on, Alex." Claire said, hoping to lead him away from the room but he just stood there, unmoving.

"Sara?" Derrick inquired to Cam, politely curious.

"My baby sister. Everyone loves her more than me." Alex sighed dramatically, an expected complaint. "When she came home, Grandma and Grandpa brought a million presents for her and none for me."

Claire could _not _believe this was happening. _Three. _Her parents had brought three presents for the baby and two of the three were clothes. God, they should have just left Alex back in Florida, considering the list of complaints he built everyday since they'd moved here.

"That's not true. Everyone loves you and Sara the same amount." Cam replied, giving a amused Derrick an apologetic look.

Alex shook his head. "Nope. Everyone always comes to look at her! She doesn't even _do_ anything!"

"I know just how you feel." Derrick agreed, a glint in his dark eyes. "When we had our daughter, everyone always said how pretty and nice she was. They were crazy about her. No one said I was pretty or nice."

"You can't be pretty! You're a boy!"

"Who says?" He scoffed, bringing a smile to Claire's lips. Who knew Mr Soccer Star was so good with kids? "But you know what? Your sister's going to look up to you and want to be like you. She's going to trust you and need you. _And_ you are going to be the coolest person he knows."

Alex scrunched up his little face while he thought that over. "Cooler than you?"

"Probably. But only by a little," Derrick amended.

* * *

**Review?**

**Yes?  
**

**No?  
**

**Maybe so?  
**

**Your feedback, compliments, and thoughts are all appreciated =)  
**


	3. Chapter 3

disclaimer: nothing belongs to me!  
note: links on my profile for clothes and that lot!  
**It's been _way _too long, I know I'm a horrible person but I promise, school is done and this story is going to start rolling again!  
**

* * *

**The Worst Things In Life Come Free  
**

* * *

In the last few days Massie Block had dealt with a drunk mother-in-law who had all but burned their home down, a awkward plane ride back where neither her or Derrick had spoken a word to each other and really, all she had wanted do was lie in bed and feel sorry for herself.

Instead she was having dinner with the most _peculiar _couple in the world.

Like weirder than Taylor Swift and Harry Styles.

"So how old is yours?" Cam Fisher asked politely, leaning in slightly, attempting to make conversation. Massie resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the faint smell of Drakkar Noir encased her. God, why couldn't they just leave her alone with her misery? "Alex just turned seven."

"Seven."

"Really! She seems so small for seven—" Claire immediately snapped her mouth shut the moment the thin brunette across from her turned cold glare towards. _If looks could kill. _Her daughter, a mini replica of her mother except a lot _nicer, _stared at the with wide eyes. "I mean—I didn't mean there's anything _wrong _with being small—"

"You have a very nice home." Derrick Harrington remarked, walking into the room with a satisfied look on his face. Alex was right behind, the grin on his face having yet to fade after his childhood hero complimenting him just a mere hour ago. "I might just take this instead of the shit you've been showing me, Fisher."

"Derrick!" The reproach left Massie and Claire's mouth at the same time and Claire turned to look at her counterpart in a rush of togetherness only to find her having turned her deathly glare on her husband instead.

"What? I'm not _actually _going to buy your house—"

"Don't swear in front of _her._" Massie inclined her head slightly to her left where their daughter was sitting attached to her side, having now turned her surprised gaze to their father. Claire liked her for some reason, even though the girl had barely said a word since they'd arrived almost an hour ago. There was a sort lovely innocence in her that was a such a sharp contrast to her mother that was very endearing.

"Ah, right, right!" In a matter of seconds, Derrick swooped down his knees in front of Cecelia, his face feigning a look of apology. "Cecelia, my love. Will you forgive me for my horrendous mistake?"

Cam snorted, Claire's heart jumped, Massie examined her nails with the air of someone who'd seen this little act _many _times and Cecelia turned bright red, very aware that _all _eyes were on her. "I s—suppose."

"Good." Derrick got up, looking triumphant and winked at Alex. "See that, bud? That right there is _charm._"

"I don't think your own daughter counts. She's learned to forgive your many flaws." Massie replied, finally allowing herself the privileged to roll her eyes. "And I think it's time we got going. It's getting late—"

"Of course not! We've already got the rooms done for you guys!" Claire piped up, instantly regretting her her words when she saw the appalled look of realization on the brunette opposite of her in return.

Hadn't Derrick told her?

"_What?_"

* * *

"Unforgivable."

"What's happened now?" Kristen asked turning off her iPhone with a large sigh as she rubbed her temples; even though she wasn't _around _her kids at the moment there was nothing more stressful than being a mother of three, especially knowing she left her precious darling's with their often hands off father. "Is it Massie?"

"Can you tell her to bring some real food?" Dylan said, daintily picking up a tiny apple slice before throwing it back into its crystal bowl like it was last year's Versace. "Like stat? I think I'm starting to feel faint."

"Grow up, Dylan." Alicia snapped, staring in disdain at her friend. "We've got bigger problems."

"Like what? Your stupid rose bushes? For the _last _time, I said I would foot the bill, didn't I?"

"_No, _Dylan! It's Massie. She needs us. Something _horrible _has happened."

Kristen's interest peaked slightly and Dylan finally took her eyes off the little food that was currently on the small table to raise her eyes in doubt. "What could be more horrible than your crazy mother-in-law burning your house down?"

"Your crazy husband ignorantly thinking living with some wannabe's is better than a proper five star hotel!" Alicia remarked, snapping her fingers at a wispy, bored looking waiter, barely missing knocking off the heaped tray of dirty dishes in his hands. "We'll take our order to go!"

"Wait, what? We just got here!" Dylan whined, sending a pleading look at Alicia. "Do you how much it costs to get a nanny that's actually willing to _watch _both Reagan and Talia? I _need _this!"

"And besides, what can we do to help her?" Kristen added, not too rushed to head home either. Let Dempsey deal with being a parent for once. "They're probably already asleep."

"It's 9 o'clock." Alicia snapped with a slight sneer, nonetheless staying in her seat.

"The Fisher's are probably by-the-book, give-you're-kid-a-bedtime parents." Dylan contributed, popping a apple slice in her mouth. "You know, the type who only have sex once a week—"

"Thanks for _that _image, Dylan." Kristen grumbled, gesturing for their waiter.

"_Fine._" Alicia huffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "Tomorrow, we bring our plan into action."

"We have a plan?"

"You mean, _I _have a plan."

* * *

"You can't ignore me forever."

"I can try."

"That won't make anything better."

"It makes _me _feel better."

Massie knew she was being more immature than Dylan when it came to food but she was _not _about to let this go. The bed was uncomfortable, the room was decorated in tacky wallpaper that was starting to peel at the edges and she was currently tightly squeezed into a bed that was not built to inhabitant three people.

Granted, it had been her idea to have Cecelia sleep with them but _Derrick _could have certainly invited himself to a different bedroom.

"I've been telling you for almost seven years how your mother is a nervous breakdown just _waiting _to happen but you didn't listen." Massie snapped, turning her back to him. "No sympathy."

Derrick sighed and stared at the ceiling, nearly jumping out of his skin when their daughter's hesitant voice sounded out between them. "Are we going to live here? It's too crowded."

Before he could a word out, Massie quickly forgot her early plan of cold shoulder-ing him into guiltily admitting his unwilling part in his mother's grand scheme to _always _ruin his life and turned around to wrap her arms around Cecelia. "Of course not, baby. It's temporary."

"Shouldn't you be dreaming about pink unicorns and sparkly things instead of worrying about our house?" Derrick made sure to add, sneaking a look at Massie, who wove a hand through Cecelia's hair, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm seven now, daddy, I'm too old for that."

"What? When did this happen?!"

Massie snorted, a rather unladylike occurrence she knew her own mother would have raised her eyebrow at, and gave Derrick a thankful, if not entirely forgiving, smile. He lips quirked slightly in return before he quickly put on a mask of mock seriousness, tapping Cecelia's nose as she frowned at him.

"One month ago, when it was my birthday—"

"No. No, I don't remember."

"You were there!"

"No it's not possible. I mean, wasn't it just yesterday you were a drooling little booger who cried all night long, never letting mommy and daddy sleep."

"I don't drool. Mommy, tell him I don't drool."

"We had to get a different set of sheets for every night—"

"Mommy!"

"Derrick."


End file.
